Chapter 4: Feelings.
1009 Words
"You’re here because you’re leverage.” Something sank in my stomach.
Victor watched me, letting the weight of his words settle. “Your papa didn’t sell you to me. He offered you as a seal to an alliance. If you leave, your father loses that alliance.”
I stiffened.
He leaned back, satisfied with my silence. “And Marco? He will never let that happen.”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
This wasn’t just about money. This was the power papa wanted, how unfortunate, I really think but he loved me.
I wasn’t just married to Victor, I was a hostage in my own home.
Victor stood, adjusting his cuffs. “Eat, Isabella. You’ll need your strength.”
I didn’t move.
He walked past me, pausing just long enough to murmur, “You’re mine. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
And then he was gone, leaving me there—trapped, furious, and already planning my escape.
The moonlight washed over the balcony, cool and quiet. I gripped the railing, staring at the world beyond the gates of Valkov estate. Freedom. It was out there somewhere but never for me. Not as a mafia daughter. Not as Victor’s wife.
I closed my eyes, breathing in the night air, hoping for just a moment of peace.
Then, his voice shattered it.
“You always run at night.”
I tensed up. His presence was behind me before I could move, his warmth pressing against my back. Then came his touch—his arm slipping around my waist, pulling me into him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.
A shiver crawled down my spine, but I snapped out of it fast. I grabbed his wrist, pried his hand off me, and stepped away.
“Don’t touch me.”
I walked into the bedroom, not looking back. I just wanted to be alone. But before I could reach the bed, strong fingers wrapped around my wrist.
A sharp pull.
I gasped as he spun me around, dragging me against him. His grip was firm, his gaze piercing.
“What you’re doing won’t get you anywhere.” His voice was quiet, but dangerous. “Why aren’t you speaking to me?”
I yanked at my wrist, but his hold didn’t budge. I refused to answer. There was no point in talking to someone who never listened.
Victor let out a slow breath, his patience thinning. “Enough of this.”
In one swift move, he lifted me off my feet and threw me onto the bed.
The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. The mattress dipped under his weight as he followed, his body hovering over mine, caging me in.
I struggled. “Get off me!”
His hands pinned mine above my head. “Stop fighting.”
His voice was calmer now, almost soft, but his grip on me told a different story.
I glared up at him, my chest rising and falling quickly.
He studied me, eyes dark and unreadable. “Why do you fight me?”
His fingers loosened, brushing against my wrist, trailing up my arm. The shift was small, but I felt it. His touch was no longer forceful—it was something else.
“I know you hate me.” His lips hovered close, his breath warm. “But hate and desire? They’re not so different.”
My heart pounded.
I turned my head away. No. I refused to let him get inside my head.
Victor chuckled low, a sound that sent chills down my spine. “Stubborn.”
Then, just as fast as the gentleness came, it vanished.
He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze again. “You belong to me, Isabella. Whether you want to or not.”
I met his eyes, fire burning in mine. “I will never belong to you.
His smirk was small, knowing. A quiet warning of what was to come.
Victor’s eyes flickered down to my neck, watching the rapid rise and fall of my breath. His grip loosened, but not enough for me to escape. Not that my body even tried.
He leaned in, his lips brushing just below my jaw, warm and deliberate. A slow burn, the message sent straight to my core. I could feel his bulge on my stomach, It felt big.
I swallowed hard, my pulse betraying me as he kissed down the column of my throat. My body tensed, fighting against the way my skin reacted to him. This wasn’t supposed to feel like anything. Yet, every touch sent shivers through me.
His lips moved lower, trailing across my collarbone, lingering there for a moment before continuing down. His breath fanned against my skin, sending a rush of heat through me.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing to me.
Victor chuckled, the sound deep, knowing. He could feel it.
“Fighting me won’t change the truth.” His voice was low, rough against my skin.
I hated him. Hated how easily he took control of everything—including my own body’s reactions.
His hand slid up my arm, slow and deliberate, before pinning my wrists back against the mattress. He was close now, his weight pressing into me, surrounding me.
“Tell me to stop.” The words were a challenge, not a request.
I parted my lips, ready to tell him exactly that. But no sound came.
Because stopping meant admitting there was something to stop.
Victor smirked again, his lips ghosting over my collarbone. “That’s what I thought.”
And then, just as suddenly as he started, he pulled away.
Leaving me breathless, frustrated and confused i could cry.
He stood, adjusting his cuffs like he hadn’t just unraveled something inside me. At the doorway, he glanced back, his expression unreadable.
“Sleep well, wife.”
And then he was gone.
Leaving me alone with the war raging inside me.
- Writer
